


that i live (and you are gone)

by DesertLily



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergent, Gen, Geralt is lonely, Heavy Angst, Kaer Morhen, School of the Wolf, everyone dies, this is the most angsty thing I’ve ever written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:42:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23410405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesertLily/pseuds/DesertLily
Summary: Geralt had known for a long time that his lifespan was far longer than most. He also didn’t have friends. He didn’t have anyone to lose. That was, of course, until he did.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 1
Kudos: 70





	that i live (and you are gone)

**Author's Note:**

> I need to stop listening to Empty Chairs at Empty Tables

The first to go had been Renfri. To call her a friend would be using the term extremely liberally but there had been something in her; a fire that he couldn’t help but respect. Perhaps if she had lived then she would have earned the title of ‘fond acquaintance’ - maybe even accompanied him for a while. But not friend. Never friend. He didn’t have friends. Renfri had died by his hand before either of them could possibly push it further. She had died consumed by the possibility of vengeance and as a result, Geralt had earned the moniker ‘The Butcher of Blaviken’. He carried her pin for a long time. He dreamed of her for a long time. 

The second to go had been Roach. His most loyal friend. She had lived far longer than any horse probably should; enchanted with the blessing of longer life. Geralt had been foolish enough to think she would last forever. But there came a time, as with all things, he was forced to say goodbye to her. Geralt had seen it coming. He had seen how slow she walked now; how she could no longer hold his weight. It was to be expected. He had made sure she had left the world loved. His horse had been the first thing he ever truly expressed any form of love for. Of course, he had other horses and they were always given the same name in her honour. But they were never quite the same. They were never quite his roach. 

The third to go was Jaskier. His dandelion. His lark. His bard. As much as Geralt claimed to be irritated by Jaskier, he loved him deeply - probably far more deeply than any friend should. There was a light and warmth within Jaskier that had never truly known. Jaskier had  _ wanted _ to be around him. He had actually enjoyed Geralt’s presence! The memories of their friendship were one of the things the Witcher treasured most. There was never silence with Jaskier. Always unstoppable chatter or songs or simply the sound of his lute playing. Jaskier had taught Geralt to hate silence; to love sound and the bard that always seemed to accompany it. That was until Geralt fucked up. If his dreams were no longer haunted by Renfri then they were haunted by Jaskier. They were haunted by the mountain and how Geralt had sent him away with such cruel, unfair words. He had sent Jaskier away and foolishly never followed him. He should have followed him. He should have kept him safe. But Geralt didn’t. It had taken the stubborn Witcher years before he dared seek out the bard again. Too many years, it seemed. The story of how the Viscount of Lettenhove had been ambushed and brutally murdered by bandits had been one that had shattered his heart completely. Geralt had refused to believe it! Not until he had rode to Lettenhove. Not until he’d seen Jaskier’s tomb for himself. 

The fourth friend he lost was Yennefer. His... _ something _ . He never quite knew how to describe his relationship with her. They were not quite friends nor were they dedicated to the definition of lovers (part of Geralt’s heart still belonged to Jaskier). They simply  _ were _ . Bound together by destiny and Geralt’s third wish to the djinn; the wish for her to live. Unfortunately, his wish didn’t last forever. Yennefer’s chaos had gotten the better of her. He had to watch as she crumbled away into nothing whilst protecting him and Ciri. He had to watch her crumble away into nothing because he hadn’t been fast enough in attacking the Nilfgaardian soldiers. Now she was dead and he was to blame. 

The fifth person he lost and perhaps worst of all was Cirilla. Ciri. His child surprise. His  _ daughter _ . He hadn’t wanted her at first. Why would he? A child wouldn’t be safe with him. Yet when he had finally met her, Geralt couldn’t imagine anything else other than keeping her safe. After the fall of Cintra and Nilfgaard’s determination to get their hands on her, he swore to protect her. He had even taken her to Kaer Morhen to train her - seemingly much to the delight of his ‘brothers’. Eskel had thought she was sweet and Lambeth had instead focused on teaching her how to swear. As always, Vesemir was exasperated to find the remaining Witchers of the School of the Wolf to be back on their bullshit. But it was familiar and if it made Ciri happy and kept her safe, Geralt would endure. So he had watched her grow and flourish. Eventually, he began to bring her with him on his travels. Then Yennefer had joined them and it felt...good to have company again. It felt good to fill the silence of travelling now that Jaskier was long gone. But then Yennefer had died and Geralt had been alone with Ciri. He had worked harder than ever to keep her safe. But Geralt knew he couldn’t keep her by his side forever. He knew Ciri would grow up and leave him. He just hoped he had raised her to be strong enough to survive on her own. She did for a time. He heard tales of her monster slaying exploits and was beyond proud. But she wasn’t a witcher. She was mutated to survive like he was. It was a Striga that took her out. She hadn’t been entirely prepared to fight it and a single moment of hesitation had ripped Geralt’s daughter from him. He didn’t show that Striga even a slither of mercy when he slew it. 

Last of all came the loss of his brothers. Another attack on Kaer Morhen - one none of them had even remotely been prepared to deal with. They hadn’t expected it. After all, why would anyone want to attack a ruined fortress that survived as the home to the last few members of the School of the Wolf? Why was it worth their time? But as it turned out, they had more enemies than they realised. It had soon become apparent that it was a battle none of them would win. Geralt’s survival was by luck alone. His attackers had left him; assuming him to be dead. But his family were not so lucky. Eskel. Lambert. Vesemir. He found all three of them brutally butchered and discarded as if they were no one; as if they weren’t heroes. Geralt had given them all the funerals they deserved. He never went back to Kaer Morhen after that. 

Geralt would not let anyone accompany him after that. He would not risk anyone else getting too close. Grief had hit him far too many times for that. But he did not forget who he lost. He refused to forget them. Whenever he was in a tavern, he always brought two tankards of ale. He always imagined that it was one of them sitting across from. Renfri. Jaskier. Yennefer. Lambert. Eskel. Vesemir. Even Ciri! He always went to the stables expecting to see Roach - the true Roach there - but she never was. None of his friends were ever there. Geralt of Rivia was alone and he would remain alone until death claimed after.

It was only after death that his loneliness would truly end and his friends would come back to him

**Author's Note:**

> I’m not sorry. Love it? Hate it? Comments are always appreciated or hmu @ desert-lily on tumblr!


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